


that one where sam and abaddon go to natalie

by rei_c



Series: The Genderfluid(ity) 'Verse [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean in Hell, Female Sam Winchester, Gen, POV Second Person, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: Lilith won the battle for Dean's soul and dragged him down to hell. Sam's gathering allies to get him back.





	that one where sam and abaddon go to natalie

You open the door, let your eyes ghost over Sam first, then Abaddon, right behind her. There's a gleam of something in Abaddon's eyes that you're hesitant to call triumph -- though, perhaps; knights of hell are never the most cautious in their victories. Sam's face, though, is twinned devastation and determination. Judging by the presence of Abaddon and absence of Dean, Lilith won this skirmish and Sam's barely holding on. 

"Oh, sweet girl," you murmur, and step to the side, opening the door wider. "Come on in. Both of you," you add, glancing at the knight. 

Abaddon tilts her head and sets one hand low on Sam's back, guiding Sam inside and to the living room. Sam collapses onto the couch, the same spot she sat before, as if she's a marionette with her strings cut. You leave the two of them to it, go into the kitchen, put together a tray of food and drink for Sam. She hasn't moved by the time you make it back to them. 

With the tray on the table, Abaddon leans forward, makes a cup of strong tea for Sam, says, "Here, Sam," with a murmur, pressing the mug into Sam's hands. Sam hardly reacts, though she does take a sip when Abaddon tells her, "You need to keep your strength up. Remember what we talked about." 

"I take it you weren't -- that Lilith got what she bargained for?" you ask. There's no way to ask delicately; you don't even try. 

"Why didn't you tell me I had no chance?" Sam asks. "I was barely able to hold her away from _me_ , much less Dean. There was no way I was going to come out with -- there's no way we could win. You should have told me." 

You sigh, sit back into your chair. "And would you have listened?" you ask. "You _or_ Dean?" 

Sam looks up, meets your gaze for the first time. "Dean knew," she says. "He always knew. I guess I just--." She stops there, lets out a broken, bitter laugh as she lets her eyes drop back down to the cup of tea in her hands. The cup's shaking. Sam steadies herself, reaches out, sets the mug back down on the tray even as Abaddon's chiding her. "I should have realised as soon as you gave me Abaddon's number that nothing I did was going to help."

"But you will now," Abaddon says. Her eyes flash black. "With me instead of that traitor. We'll get Dean back." 

There's a moment where you think Sam's going to say something, where the flesh over her knuckles turns white and her jaw clenches. She doesn't, though, and you look at Abaddon again, see her watching Sam's hands with a private smile playing at the corners of her mouth. 

You sip your own tea, watch the two of them. You can already see tendrils of Abaddon's influence curling around Sam, can already see the effect that prolonged exposure to a knight of a hell, rather than a mere denizen like Ruby had been, has had on Sam's own power, can already see where the black cloud of Abaddon's evil is trying to seep into the spaces of Sam's soul where Dean belongs. 

You regret so much. Just because something is destined, because it was meant to be, does not mean you like it or take joy in the part you had to play.

"Will you tell me what happened?" you ask. 

"Ruby's dead," Sam says. "And I'm going to kill Lilith and get Dean back. Will you help me?" She lifts her head again, looks at you, her gaze sharp like knives. 

Abaddon says, "Help _us_ ," and you'd almost forgotten about the knight's presence, jump at her interjection, because you'd been so focused on reading Sam's plan straight from her soul. 

You spread your hands. "I don't see how I can." 

Sam snorts. "You're a psychic," she tells you. "A strong one -- and you better believe I looked into your family after Dean and I came here before, Nat. You're one of the strongest they've ever produced. You know a way to help. You already have been helping -- I never would have found Abaddon without you. Why stop now?" 

"But what did you do when you realised what kind of help I already provided?" you ask. "What did you _want_ to do? I sent you to a demon, Sam. You must've thought about killing me but you're here seeking more aid instead of vengeance? Why?" 

"Because I need every ounce of help I can get," she says, bluntly. You can see the steel in her taking over every speck of softness she had last time you saw her, can already see the ruthlessness sinking in and the love fleeing from the overwhelming flood of selfish need settling into her bones. "I don't want Dean to spend a second longer in hell than he has to. I've agreed to Abaddon's terms and you're at least human. So will you help." 

You let out a breath and rue the fate that placed you here, and her there. 

"Yes," you say. "Whatever you need, Sam. Anything I can give you, from now until I die." 

Abaddon's eyes flicker at the wording, a slight frown making a momentary appearance on her brow. Sam doesn't notice -- or, if she does, she doesn't say anything about it. 

Sam just nods.


End file.
